The best things to do in Turin

Beautiful baroque squares and fabulous food make Turin worthy of more than a pitstop, says Rodney Bolt. What images does the word 'Turin' conjure up for you? Fiat factories, rowdy football supporters? For years, I skimmed past it on my way to holidays elsewhere. Until, one day, I stopped off and, to my surprise, discovered a baroque gem. Elegantly set on the River Po, with the Alps as a backdrop, Turin has an illustrious, centuries-old pedigree as the seat of the royal house of Savoy. When the new Kingdom of Italy was formed out of a motley collection of states exactly 150 years ago, Turin became its first capital. Centuries of riches and political posturing have created show-off palazzos, imposing churches and graceful piazzas. Turin is now quite as chic as Milan - but not nearly as uppity. City boulevards are edged with shadowy porticos that add a touch of mystery to the mood. The streets that lead off them break here and there into scuttles of little cobbled alleys, lined with enticing shops. Through a gap between stuccoed façades, you may suddenly glimpse snow-capped Alps, or the quirky Mole Antonelliana, once the tallest brick building in the world. Pictured: The baroque interior of the Consolata church.

A gloriously gadget-filled film museum, a rich stash of ancient Egyptian treasures and cutting-edge contemporary art collections all add to the allure. Then comes cooking that can elicit tears of delight (and sap all resistance) - and if all that weren't enough, the best chocolate in Italy. After that first visit, I was hooked. The ancient Romans bequeathed Turin a regimented grid layout, which relaxes at intervals into broad piazzas, each with its particular character, like different family members occupying separate apartments in a mansion. Piazza Castello, the geographic core of the city, boasts the grand Savoy palaces. To the south, the traffic-free, resplendently baroque Piazza San Carlo buzzes with conversation, as people sip coffee at outdoor tables, or stroll about as if in a giant salon. Between the two, and stretching south to a hectic triumvirate of piazzas fronting Porta Nuova station, lies the true heart of town - the big museums and commercial bustle. To the east, an elongated Piazza Vittorio Veneto runs down to the river and is fashionable Turin's prime gathering spot for evening cocktails. Off the western corner of Piazza Castello, the Quadrilatero Romano (Roman Quarter) is the restaurant and nightlife hub of the city. Beyond that is Piazza Statuto, reportedly the Gates of Hell - though the carvings of strikingly well-appointed young men disporting themselves on the rocks of the central fountain hint that Hades might, for some at least, be more fun than is usually advertised. (Turin, once home to the seer Nostradamus and at the intersection of a 'Triangle of Good' incorporating Prague and Lyon and a 'Line of Evil' linking it with London and Paris, bubbles bright in the cauldrons of practitioners of both black and white magic.) Pictured: Tre Galli in the Quadrilatero Romano, Turin's restaurant hub.

On my first visit, I was drawn by the sober, contemplative strand that runs through the baroque huff and puff. Bookshops abound - well-stocked emporia, poky specialist shops, stalls laid out under the porticos. Turin has a university that dates back to 1404, was Primo Levi's home town and, as headquarters of Einaudi, one of Italy's leading publishers, attracted such writers and thinkers as Italo Calvino, Cesare Pavese and Antonio Gramsci. There are grand cafés, dripping with crystal and gleaming with gilt, where dowagers in furs and high finery sit, munching silently through mounds of cream cakes. But even more abundant are cosy bars, where conversation hums and wooden chairs drawn up around marbled-topped tables in the immersing shade of the porticos where the woes of the world are turned over and resolved. The artist Giorgio de Chirico passed through town in 1911 and, though he stayed just a few days, was deeply moved. 'Turin is the most profound, most enigmatic and most disquieting city, not only of Italy but of the world,' he remarked. Those deep, shaded porticos were to appear in his paintings for the rest of his life. Pictured: Guido Gobino, a boutique chocolaterie which offers sugary delights.

Yet there's a lighter side to the city, too. Two of my favourite spots in the Quadrilatero Romano are Casa Mad, a bar named after its owner Daniela Madeddu, and Osteria della Cima, a somewhat fly-by-night restaurant. I first experienced Casa Mad well after midnight. An artist was painting in one corner, a saxophonist was in another, playing House of the Rising Sun. These might seem ingredients for an unbearably pretentious atmosphere, but Casa Mad burbled along with a cheerful, utterly unaffected sense of fun.

During the day, Osteria della Cima is a branch of Focacceria Tipica Ligure, a rather good restaurant franchise. At night, a blackboard bearing the alternative name is propped outside the door and the wood oven is turned to other duties, as out comes lasagne, farinata (crispy bread made with chickpea flour), skewers of chicken - whatever chefs Bepe and Marco turn their minds to. The music is upped a notch and Bepe and Marco tear about the place, waving pepper mills, trading insults and bursting into song. Pictured: tonno di coniglio at Casa Vicina.

Turin's greatest claim to fame, though, is an altogether more solemn matter - the Turin Shroud, reputedly the cloth that wrapped Christ in the tomb, still bearing the image of his face and body. But the relic goes on show just once every 10 years or so. The cathedral where it is housed has only a replica on view - though its shop does purvey religious kitsch in the form of mini Turin Shrouds on postcard-sized pieces of cloth. For me, the city landmark that always enthralls is the Mole Antonelliana. Designed in the 1860s as a synagogue, the eccentric domed tower with its spindly point has become a symbol of Turin. Today, it's a museum of cinema. A modern, glass-sided lift takes you up into the narrowing dome, past screens flickering with images of Bette Davis and Buster Keaton and then close-up views of the gilded ceiling, to an open-sided temple at the top with vistas across the city to the Alps. And the museum itself is transporting. Crank the handles of a 'What the Butler Saw' machine, push buttons that set off zoetropes, phenakistoscopes and other pre-cinematic moving-image devices, then recline on one of the red loungers on the ground floor, don headphones and watch the movies projected onto the walls. Pictured: Piazza Vittorio Veneto, and the foot of the spire of the Mole Antonelliana.

Also high on my must-see list is the Museo Egizio, which has one of the richest collections of ancient Egyptian artefacts in the world, from perfectly preserved carvings of Rameses the Great and the papyrus Book of the Dead to swathes of linen 5,000 years old and cabinet upon cabinet of fascinating artefacts. Although much of the presentation is a little old- fashioned, the atmospherically lit hall containing the larger statuary is deliciously eerie and tomblike. In the same building as the Museo Egizio, the Galeria Sabauda houses the larger part of the Savoy royal art collection, with not only a tick list of Italian greats but also a surprisingly broad collection of Dutch and Flemish Old Masters. Pictured: Galleria San Frederico.

But the really gripping art is in more modern collections - four of them, with everything from Matisse to the igloo sculptures of local lad Mario Merz and the hottest of avant-garde installations. They're to be found in spectacular settings, too. The Galleria d'Arte Moderna is in a suburb of beautiful Art Nouveau villas; the works by Matisse are displayed in a giant glass box designed by Renzo Piano, suspended above the former Fiat factory at Lingotto. (The factory, now a shopping mall, was built in 1917 with a rooftop track for test driving and is worth a visit in itself.) Taking up the theme, the nearby Museo Nazionale dell'Automobile mixes old cars and contemporary art in a way likely to enthral even those who are not normally into the mysteries of mechanics. Pictured: The heliport at Lingotto, the former Fiat Factory

I confess, though, that what lures me to Lingotto, which is about two miles from Porta Nuova station, are neither the Matisses nor the Fiat building, but Eataly next door. Eataly is a cross between a deli and a megastore, with the finest food from all over Italy: cheeses and salamis, porcini and balsamico, bottled zabaglione and vacuum-packed panna cotta, artichokes in olive oil, peaches soaked in Muscat wine. A visit wreaks havoc with the luggage weight limit on the way home. In the midst of it all, a variety of eateries offer fresh fish, pasta, vegetarian dishes and more. Turin (and Eataly) has strong connections with Slow Food, a movement that strives to preserve traditional, regional cuisine and local agriculture and was founded by Carlo Petrini, who comes from Bra, to the south of the city.

Even before Slow Food, there was a school of thought that favoured Piedmontese cooking as the best in Italy. Piedmont is the source of the world's best truffles, gorgonzola and other heavenly cheeses, agnolotti (delicate ravioli) and grissini, which, when fresh, have a delicious combination of crunchiness and softness that makes them infinitely superior to dry, pre-packed breadsticks.

Sumptuous Barolo red wines and subtly sparkling Moscato d'Asti come from the region, too. And Turin is the home of Lavazza coffee, Cinzano and Martini - and gianduiotto, that seductive combination of chocolate creamed with hazelnuts.

Turin's adoration for chocolate goes back to the 17th century. The Torinesi claim (with some justification) to be better at making bonbons than the Swiss. Chocolateries abound round town, stocking every type of truffle from classic to more challenging flavours, such as chilli and sea salt. And once you've tasted a bicerin - a thick mix of coffee and drinking chocolate - there is no turning back. Published in Condé Nast Traveller October 2011.